Vampire bats—just the mere mention conjures an image straight out of a Hammer Horror movie, all fog-laden graveyards and the swoosh of velvet capes. Of course, in reality, there’s significantly less swooshing and dramatically less velvet, but more on that in a second. I feel like if you ever needed proof that nature has a sense of humour (or possibly a penchant for the macabre), you wouldn’t need to look further than the vampire bat. But let me be upfront: I am not the bravest soul when it comes to bats. If you ever catch me in a dark barn and something flutters by, I guarantee you my first reaction will be to duck, squeal, and execute a spasm that vaguely resembles contemporary dance. I’m jumpy, okay? It’s not that I believe bats are determined to get tangled in my hair, but I can’t entirely rule it out, either as creatures are far smatter then I think we want to admit.

Perhaps my unease is heightened by the fact that, as someone with AuDHD, I not only see the world in high definition but occasionally hear it in high frequency, too. Yes, it’s a fact—people with AuDHD can be incredibly sensitive to sounds, and apparently, I’m one of those rare, wired-for-sonar individuals who can, at least in the right circumstances, pick up on the high-pitched social soundtrack of a bat colony. Imagine everyone else blithely watching a sunset near caves where you can watch these guys and me with my hands slammed to my ears especially as they go for the food, yeesh. Maybe that’s part of why I have an auditory processing disorder (yea I know not realistic), or maybe I’m just uniquely qualified to be the world’s least enthusiastic bat whisperer, or who knows. Though dog whistles also suck, it is more hit and miss on which one’s make me cringe and which I do not notice, hearing electricity in the walls this is also a thing.

Despite my jumpiness and my auditory quirks, I do actually enjoy watching bats on a screen—especially at rescues or those sanctuaries where endangered critters are pampered and encouraged to do what animals do best: eat, sleep, and, if all goes well, make more little animals. Vampire bats, though, have always been the ones that caught my attention. They’re small, they’re scrappy, and they have a PR problem that would make even the most scandal-plagued celebrity feel seen. Plus, I did kinda touch on the Dracula parrot the other day.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: the “vampire” part of the name is only partially accurate. They don’t turn into mist, they don’t hate garlic (as far as we know—nobody has checked their kitchen cupboards lately), and if you invited one into your house, it would probably just perch somewhere awkward and judge your taste in decor. What they do have, however, is an appetite for blood. Real, honest-to-goodness blood. This is not a metaphor, and it’s not some remixed vegan smoothie. Vampire bats live for the stuff, and by “live,” I mean literally—they can’t survive on anything else.

Now, here’s where things really get interesting. Vampire bats don’t just swoop down and attack like tiny flying Count Draculas. No, they’re much sneakier (and, dare I say, more considerate?). They pick a suitable host—usually livestock, which means cows, horses, or the occasional deeply confused chicken—then land quietly and creep on all fours like a little fuzzy gremlin. If you’re picturing a bat with the suave confidence of Dracula, well, these guys are more the “midnight snack sneak-through-the-fridge” type than the “grand ballroom entrance” sort. They use heat sensors in their noses to find the best spot, then painlessly nick the skin with their tiny razor-sharp teeth. The victim usually doesn’t even notice. Then the bat laps up the blood, looking for all the world like a guilty toddler with cherry Kool-Aid on their face.

Now, I admit the idea of a creature who drinks blood for a living is a little unsettling, but there’s something oddly charming about their efficiency. They’ve got an anticoagulant in their saliva—think of it as vampire bat “hot sauce”—that keeps the blood flowing smoothly, and they’re polite enough to share. Yes, you read that right: vampire bats are famously generous. If one of them has a successful night out and another hasn’t, the lucky bat will regurgitate some blood for their less-fortunate friend. It’s not exactly a dinner party I’d want to attend, but you have to respect the spirit of community. Still not something I want to see pictures of again though that is for sure.

And speaking of community, vampire bats are social to the point of being gossipy. Their societies are all about who shares with whom, who gets invited to hang upside down for the evening, and what favours are owed. It’s like a soap opera, only with more squeaking and fewer commercials. They even remember who has helped them in the past, and repay those favours down the line. If only humans were this reliable—though I suppose the blood regurgitation part would be a hard sell at potlucks just less produce in the trash at the stores would be a good place to start given it is kinda a need to live so why not sell at a discount or give to the food bank, or soup kitchen… the list goes on.

Let’s circle back to my personal relationship with bats, because—full disclosure—I still wouldn’t want one flying at me in a dark room. But sitting behind the safety of a screen, watching them shuffle around on their awkward little limbs, I can’t help but be fascinated. They look perpetually like they’re late for a meeting and forgot their pants—the vampires of the animal kingdom, yes, but also, somehow, the clowns. Their flight is chaotic, their faces are expressive in a way that makes you want to root for them, and their social manoeuvring is the stuff of legend. The baby bats? OMG the personality and traits they have and they are sooo freaking adorable!

And then there’s the science side of things. Vampire bats have inspired research into blood-thinning medications, because nothing says “cutting-edge medicine” like borrowing a trick from a creature best known for haunting horror movies though the animal kingdom could give us many lessons in all areas of life. Researchers are always peering into their secrets, hoping to find the next breakthrough. Imagine explaining that to the bat: “Congratulations!” You’re not just a misunderstood creature of the night—you’re also the inspiration for a best-selling pharma product where they make to damn much money off things people need to survive which pisses me off. The bat would probably just blink at you, then go back to plotting its next midnight snack.

So, while I may never be the type to invite a bat to roost in my hair (let’s keep that relationship strictly professional, thank you very much okay well maybe the babies can if I am prewarned big time and they have something covering their bottoms), I do have a growing appreciation for these odd, maligned creatures. Maybe it’s the way they so confidently disregard all PR advice, or maybe it’s their knack for living on the edge—literally and figuratively. Every time I see them on a rescue livestream, I find myself rooting for the underbat: the awkward, the misunderstood, the ones who just want to eat, sleep, and share a little blood with their friends. There’s something delightfully chaotic, even a little heroic, about that.

And, really, isn’t that what we all want? To make a little noise, keep good company, and maybe, just maybe, be remembered for the weirdly specific things that make us unique—even if, in the end, it’s just an uncanny talent for finding the best spot on a cow’s ankle. So, the vampire bats: the misunderstood, the misrepresented, the midnight snackers of the animal world I may be jumpy, but I’m also, oddly, a fan. Just, maybe, from a distance.